


Bath Night at Hogwarts

by gingertart50



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mild S&M, Multi, Object Insertion, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingertart50/pseuds/gingertart50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final battle is won, the war is over, and Harry Potter needs a long, relaxing soak in the tub. What he didn’t expect was toys to play with in the bath… Definitely not DH or epilogue-compliant. Written for HDS_Beltane 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bath Night at Hogwarts

“Are you sure you won’t join us?” Hermione asked, as Ron waved a bottle and tried to prevent a box of assorted cakes and pastries slipping from his grasp. “There’s plenty here.”

“I promised myself,” Harry said quietly. “Go and enjoy yourselves.” He was sure that they would from the looks that they had been exchanging all evening. Earlier, he had come across Ginny and Hermione casting charms on each other, and Ginny’s comment about her Mum killing her if she got pregnant was a pretty good clue as to what kind of charms they were. Ginny and Seamus then disappeared with a flagon of butterbeer (the adult, alcoholic variety) and a basket of goodies supplied by the house elves. Hogwarts was large enough to hide an army of courting couples, never mind the jubilant Order of the Phoenix and their friends and relatives. Even Augusta Longbottom had pretended not to notice when Neville sidled out with Luna Lovegood, and not long after that Remus and Tonks had walked off up the stairs with their arms around each other.

Meanwhile, Harry had a promise to keep. He had waited for this day for the last twelve months. He had been on the run all year, sleeping rough or staying with members of the Order, never long enough in one place to allow the Death Eaters to catch up with him. He had become accustomed to waking before dawn and performing simple cleansing, teeth cleaning and shaving charms before throwing on the same old jeans, t-shirt and jumper; clothes that had undergone so many cleaning spells that they were almost worn through in places. Now Voldemort was truly dead and Harry had promised himself a reward: Harry Potter wanted a long, luxurious, hot and indulgent bath and he was damned well going to have one.

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall laughed and pointed towards one of the staircases with her glass. Madam Pomfrey, her hat askew, Madam Hooch and Professors Sprout, Vector and Sinistra sat around the table amid a litter of wine bottles and half-eaten gateaux. Mrs Norris and Crookshanks crouched side by side over an empty plate, their whiskers suspiciously sticky and crumbs adhering to their eyebrows.

“There are two staff bathrooms up there, Harry, to the right on the second floor. The doors have carved fish on them and the password is ‘aquamarine’. Help yourself, there should be towels and shampoo and so forth already there.”

He hurried along the corridor and stopped at the first door, which did indeed carry a raised carving of what looked like a salmon diving into a river. When he spoke the password, the fish flipped its tail and rolled an eye at him as the lock clicked. Harry pushed open the door.

The bath was a deep, circular pool in the middle of pillars of quartz-veined marble and large pots of palms and ferns. It all looked very Roman and luxurious and was exactly what Harry wanted. He shut the door behind himself. A statue of a classically-draped young man tipping up an urn stood at the nearest side of the pool and Harry soon found the taps that sent steaming water gushing from the mouth of the urn. Someone had left a pile of peach-coloured towels at the edge of the pool, no doubt the house elves. Harry wandered over to investigate as his bath filled and discovered a number of interesting bottles and jars, including one of sandalwood bath foam. Also a squat glass pot of what looked like lubricant, much to his amusement. Maybe the elves had assumed that everyone would be celebrating tonight. He resolutely pushed that thought deep into his subconscious. Perhaps a solitary, celebratory wank would be in order when he had washed off the stink and the ash.

A tall pot proved to contain a bottle of champagne under a cooling charm and he blew a kiss in the approximate direction of the kitchens and hoped that the house elves were having the party of their lives. Harry conjured a champagne flute and poured himself a glass as he examined the rest of the bottles. Shampoo to enhance the beauty of fine blond hair? Puzzled, he put that aside and found another shampoo bottle, which stated that it provided increased control for dark hair that was flyaway, lank or unruly. He placed it within easy reach.

Harry removed his glasses, threw aside his stained and blood-spattered clothes and lowered himself into the deliciously scented foam of his first relaxing bath for a year. Heaven! A charm on the bath made the waters flow in a gentle rocking rhythm and he closed his eyes, sipping the champagne. Far away, people were getting drunk, dancing, singing and letting off fireworks (courtesy of the Weasley twins) but here, all was quiet save for the gentle swirl of the waters as he moved his arm. The heat seeped into his muscles, soothing away the knots and the tension. At last, Harry Potter could be at peace.

After all that time living on the edge of his nerves, it was so good to be at Hogwarts where he felt safe; where the sounds of feet were merely students or teachers on their way to or from the party in the Great Hall. Voices were raised in banter rather than discussing war strategies. He did not bother to move when footsteps approached the door. Only when a voice drawled, “Potter? What are you doing here?” did Harry even open his eyes.

“Having a bath, what does it look like?” he said, rather put out. He had been in the middle of a satisfying and totally private fantasy and was very glad of the copious amounts of foam in the pool. He squinted up into a pair of rather amused grey eyes. “Why? D’you have a problem with that, Malfoy?”

“I have a problem with you drinking my Bollinger,” Draco Malfoy said.

“Your Bollinger? I assumed that the house elves left it for whoever used the bathroom.”

“Hardly. Have you drunk it all?”

“Only one glass. You’d better take the rest if it is really yours.”

Malfoy leaned down, picked up the bottle and filled himself a champagne flute, but then reached over to refill Harry’s glass as well.

“Cheers,” Harry said with only a touch of sarcasm. “Very noble of you.”

“We cannot allow the Saviour of the Wizarding World and Slayer of He-Who-Is-Now-A-Pile-Of-Smoking-Slag to go thirsty, can we?”

“Piss off,” Harry said and then realised that the voice had not been Malfoy’s upper-class tenor but an even more mellifluous baritone. It went straight to his cock yet at the same time it made him wince. “Oops,” he said, because the champagne was far from the first drink he had imbibed this evening and the warmth had relaxed him enough for the alcohol to take effect. “Not you, Snape. Malfoy. But not really him either, I suppose; he did help us out in the end.”

Severus Snape loomed through the steam like a vampire that had found its way by accident into a Turkish bath. He folded his arms, the folds of his black robes draping around him like wings.

“Potter, you are drunk.”

“Yup,” Harry agreed happily. “Coming to join me?”

There was a moment of silence and then Malfoy laughed.

“Since we booked this room in the first place and ordered the champagne, why not?”

“You both – oh. I see. Sorry, I’ll go.”

“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy said without rancour. “Hell, who cares? Unless you’re offended by the thought of sharing your bath with two gays?”

The thought trickled into Harry’s increasingly sluggish brain. Gays. Malfoy and Snape. Snape was gay? Snape, the sharp, sarcastic, clever, courageous and sexy Snape? Sexy? Where did _that_ thought come from? From his fantasy of course, the one he had been enjoying until Malfoy had interrupted him 

“Um…” he said, wondering if staying or getting out was the more embarrassing option.

“Potter,” sighed Malfoy, “Do try to keep up. Are you going or staying?”

“No!” His mouth flapped before his brain cottoned on. “No, er, just no. I’ll stay. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Malfoy drawled, and began stripping off his clothes. Harry averted his gaze and instead, stared at Snape. Who had shut the door – warding it as well – and was now sliding his heavy robes down from his shoulders. He was wearing a plain black shirt and trousers but they were damp and clung to his slim hips and his strong shoulders in a fashion that Harry thought should have been illegal. And now he was unbuttoning the shirt and toeing off his shoes and peeling down his trousers.

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed champagne in an attempt to distract himself. His cock was standing to attention and he wanted nothing more than to reach down through the foam and attend to it in a way that would be humiliating and gratifying and oh God…

Draco Malfoy plunged down the steps into the pool, making the water swirl and gurgle and the layer of bubbles break up. Harry hastily opened his eyes again and tried to sweep a big heap of white foam against his belly, bending his knees in order to keep the tip of his cock submerged; without making it too obvious what he was doing. He could hear Snape, the faint pat of his feet as he walked across the marble floor, then the puff of his breath as he leaned down behind Harry. 

“Potter, are you quite all right?”

“Fine!” Harry’s voice came out as a squeak and he cleared his throat. “Fine, yeah, why? 

“I have spent the last eight years of my life attempting to preserve your life.” He was so close that his voice was a muted rumble just above Harry’s head, “I would hate you to expire now that you have finally accomplished that which we all thought you would never get around to doing.” Harry spluttered, then belatedly recognised the note of amusement in the velvety baritone. “You have gone a becoming shade of puce, Potter, are you sure that you are not overheating?”

“I’m fine,” Harry repeated. He could smell Snape, a complex mixture of potions ingredients, herbs, musk and fresh male sweat. It was not an immediately pleasant aroma but his cock thought that it was delicious. Rather to his relief, Snape walked around to the steps and waded down into the pool.

“Severus,” Malfoy said casually, “Soap my back for me, will you?” He picked up a bar of peach-coloured soap from the edge of the pool and tossed it to Snape, who, not being ready, fumbled the catch and dropped the soap into the water. “Whoops, sorry,” Malfoy said without apparent rancour, “I’ll get it.” He ducked down under the foam.

Harry stifled a groan. Hopefully Malfoy would get bubble bath in his eyes, or not bother looking at anything other than the elusive soap. He emerged after a few seconds, clutching the soap and tossing his hair back out of his face. Snape conjured up a sponge and began washing Malfoy’s back in long, steady sweeps.

The two Slytherins had been on the run together for almost two years, spying for the Order but hunted by both Aurors and Death Eaters. Of course they would be comfortable with each other after this length of time. Malfoy had said that they were both gay, hadn’t he? The way that he lounged against the older man, the sensuous movements of sponge against skin, caressing rather than washing, all indicated that their relationship was far from that of teacher and student. Malfoy leaned back so that his head rested against Snape’s shoulder and he murmured something that made Snape give a little huff of amusement.

“I’d better go,” Harry said, feeling awkward and young and just wanting to go away and deal with his painfully aroused cock in peace 

“Poor Potter,” Malfoy murmured without moving, “Doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.”

“Do you really want to go, Potter?” Snape asked, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, “Or would you rather come?”

Harry tried to process this and failed.

“Uh, what? Pardon?”

Malfoy sighed and stood up, wading through the water until he stood face to face with Harry, his hands on his hips.

“We’re talking to a Gryffindor, Severus, I think we’ll have to stop being subtle. Potter, are you interested in joining us for sex? I know you’re interested, but are you going to?”

There was a short pause while Harry remembered that yes, he was a Gryffindor, he had been having the most irrational and delightful fantasies about Severus Snape and he really was being given an opportunity to turn them into reality. He stared into the sea-grey eyes and said, “Yes.”

There was a swirling of water and before Harry could register what was happening, two large hands settled on either side of his waist. He yelped but Malfoy reached out and grasped his shoulders, and the next thing he knew, Snape had emerged like a dark and saturnine merman and together with Malfoy, was picking him up and supporting him, floating him onto his back in the hot, sudsy water. Four hands were soaping him, massaging his shoulders and back and thighs. The sensations were almost too much to bear. He looked down, reaching for his erect cock waving like a hungry sea-creature in the breeze, and Snape knocked his hand away.

“Leave that,” he commanded. Harry was supported against the dark wizard’s chest and he could feel the words vibrating through them both. “We will deal with it in a moment. Unless of course the Great Harry Potter has to do everything for himself, by himself, without intervention from a couple of untrustworthy Slytherins?”

“Oh shut up, you great bat,” Harry sighed. “You know how much I trust the pair of you.”

“Then you’re an idiot, Potter,” Malfoy murmured. He reached across and picked up his champagne, took a deep gulp and then leaned over and took the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth. The cold wine, contrasted with the heat of the bath, its little bubbles tickling as light as a butterfly’s wings, almost made Harry come there and then.

“Bloody hell! That’s – that’s – ungh!”

“Very erudite, Potter.” One of Snape’s hands ghosted over his chest, flicking his nipples as it passed. “Six years of intensive training and expensive education and all you have to say for yourself is ‘ungh’?”

Malfoy was using his tongue to swirl the wine around inside his mouth, which totally removed Harry’s ability to speak at all. Instead, he reached back with one arm, seized Snape by the back of his neck and pulled his head down so that their mouths met. Harry, floating, had his head tipped back, so that his mouth was upside-down against Snape’s. That meant that the problem of the nose was solved, of course, but it made for an interesting and unusual first kiss. Their tongues kept sliding past one another and it felt strange when Snape explored the lower part of his mouth rather than the roof. Snape eventually gave an impatient snort and moved around, so that they were face to face. Harry clung to him, keeping himself afloat so that Malfoy did not drown or even worse, stop what he was doing with the champagne.

Snape was an exciting kisser, just as Harry had dreamed. Intense, focussed, dominant and demanding. It was all too much for Harry, who lost his grip on the hard, slippery body and sank, forcing Snape to haul them both upright as they spluttered.

“Too much,” Harry gasped, his knees wobbling.

“I don’t know, Potter, I try to do you a favour and even then you whinge!” But Malfoy’s eyes were gleaming with amusement.

“Shall we complete the bathing part of the evening and then take this elsewhere?” Snape suggested, which sounded fine to Harry. He even managed to pull himself into an upright position for long enough to apply shampoo to Snape’s hair. Which took longer than it should because he just had to kiss him, while he had his fingers buried in the long black hair and the snarky git’s head was immobilised. This kiss was equally as good as the first go.

When they clambered out, warm and glowing and squeaky-clean, Harry took a look at what he was getting. Malfoy was slim and elegant in a slightly fragile sort of way. His body hair was as pale as that on his head, quite sparse except around his pink and surprisingly plump cock. He noticed the direction of Harry’s gaze, raised his eyebrows and smirked. Snape was all spare lines, darkly furred on chest and belly, with proportionally large balls and a heavy, purple cock, which was unfurling like a watchful snake as Snape briskly towelled himself dry. Harry grabbed one of the thick, thirsty towels and began wiping himself, until a pair of hands seized it and a voice remarked languidly “Let me, Potter. Heavens, have you no finesse?” and Malfoy began to dry him. At least it started out as Malfoy drying him, after a few minutes he was leaning back against Malfoy and whimpering as Snape plundered his mouth and Malfoy rubbed against his side, running his fingers up and down Harry’s ribs and fondling his nipples.

The two warm, clean bodies sliding against him, all hard muscle over bone, short crisp hairs on smooth skin, reduced Harry to a panting, gasping heap of slack limbs and throbbing cock. Snape was rubbing gently against him, that big, meaty cock lightly touching his arse and back as it moved. He could feel the tip, damp with arousal. He was sure that his skin would be tracked like a concrete path after rain, patterned with snail-trail runes of lust.

“Are you a natural sub, Potter?” Malfoy asked softly as he drew the towel slowly between Harry’s legs, lightly wiping the moisture from his balls and thighs. “Are you always this passive?”

Harry’s eyes snapped open in alarm and he tensed, wondering what he was doing wrong. He saw a thin hand reach out, placing a finger against Malfoy’s lips.

“Be quiet a moment, Draco. Have you ever done this before, Potter?”

What should he say? Would they lose interest if he revealed his woeful lack of experience? That he was passive only because he was being overloaded with sensations that he had never felt before, that he did not know what to do and was afraid of getting something wrong? He opened his mouth to reply and realised that Snape was gazing at him with an eyebrow quirked in amused surprise and Malfoy appeared awed.

“You’re a virgin?” Malfoy whispered. “Merlin, the Great Harry Potter has never had sex before with anyone?”

Harry could feel the blush rising in his face and probably over most of his body.

“I didn’t have much bloody opportunity, did I? Too busy trying not to get killed.” He attempted to pull himself loose but Snape held onto his arms.

“Potter, if you had said, we would have taken things slowly and not pushed you.”

“It was brilliant,” Harry said, despondently. “Bloody brilliant.”

“Then why the woeful face?” Malfoy enquired with what sounded like genuine curiosity. Because there was no pity there, Harry was able to reply.

“I assume you’re not interested now you know.”

“Not interested?” Malfoy whispered, “You think we’re not interested in showing you everything and watching you discover it all? You must be mad!”

“I thought – I’m not good at anything – not experienced –”

“Potter,” Snape growled, “Shut up.” Then his tongue was in the way and Harry had no chance to speak for a while. “So,” Snape whispered when they paused to breathe, “Are you happy for us to be your first?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation and he saw Malfoy’s pale, pointed face break into a smile that was very nearly not a smirk at all. “On one condition,” Harry added, bolder now that he knew that they did want him. Snape raised the eyebrow. “You stop calling me ‘Potter’ as if I was a bloody schoolboy – or my father.”

Snape gave a little shudder.

“I don’t know which is worse. Very well, _Harry_. It would be appropriate for you to call me ‘Severus’ and what you call Draco is up to him.”

“Not ‘ferret’ under any circumstances,” Draco muttered.

“As long as you drop the ‘Saviour, Boy Who Lived’ crap.”

“Deal,” Draco said immediately. He turned to look around the bathroom and nodded. There was a wooden bench against the wall with a padded leather seat. Draco picked up his wand from the pile of clothing at the edge of the pool and transfigured the bench into a wide bed, piled with cushions. “Come along then, boys, this way,” he said in an accurate impersonation of Minerva McGonagall’s educated brogue. Harry chortled. Why had he never realised that Draco Malfoy was so funny? Probably because he had never got drunk in Malfoy’s presence before, a tolerably sober little part of his brain pointed out. God, Malfoy had a beautiful arse, sleek and muscular and just slightly rounded enough to look grabable. Then Harry had the second major revelation of his life.

The first had come a few days ago, when he realised that he did indeed have a power that Voldemort did not and it was nothing to do with innate strength, dark magic, arcane knowledge or even love. Harry’s Avada Kedavra had been no match for Voldemort’s until he backed it up with a flame-thrower, a couple of hand grenades and a twelve-bore shotgun. Voldemort would never, ever have dreamed of dirtying his hands with something invented by a mere Muggle.

The second revelation was that if the Boy Who Lived wanted to grab Draco Malfoy’s arse, what the hell was stopping him? He reached out and he grabbed. Malfoy froze for a moment and then he deliberately backed the firm, shapely buttocks hard into Harry’s hands and said over his shoulder: “Are you going to do something with it now you’ve got it?”

Harry spun him round and pulled him into an exploratory kiss, kneading the delectable arse as he did so.

“It appears that you are teachable after all, Pot – Harry,” Snape remarked. “If only I had thought to lock you and Draco together in an empty room and leave you there, back in your fourth year.”

“We’d have hexed each other,” Draco murmured into Harry’s mouth. “Mm. You cotton on quick.”

“Good teacher,” Harry breathed, nibbling at the pouting lower lip. “Snape – sorry, Severus is a good kisser.”

“I know.”

“Severus will be back shortly,” remarked the deep baritone. “Just carry on.”

“Where…?” Harry managed as Draco licked his neck.

“He’ll be back, he won’t want to miss this.” Draco worked his way down and fastened his mouth around Harry’s nipple. Harry squeaked. Draco sniggered. “Like that, do you?”

“Wow! Didn’t realise…”

Draco sighed happily and attended to the other nipple.

By the time Snape reappeared, Harry was writhing among the pillows, whimpering as Draco sucked his balls and tickled his arsehole with a teasing fingertip.

“He’s very responsive,” Draco remarked looking up, “Did you get more champagne – oh!”

Harry peered blearily at the Potions master. Snape was looking exceedingly smug and levitating another bottle of Bollinger, a bowl of strawberries and a small chest.

“You brought the toy chest,” Draco said wonderingly. “Do you think he’s ready…?”

“I doubt if the young man who brought down Voldemort will be frightened by a little role-playing, Draco.” Snape smirked. “We should involve him from the start.”

Harry pushed himself up and stared, remembering Dudley’s bedroom filled with broken toys. Snape placed the chest on the bed and settled himself next to it. He had conjured himself a dressing gown of heavy black silk and the folds clung to his damp body. As he shifted, the fabric outlined his erect cock in a way that sent electric sparks along Harry’s nerves. The man was hot. Not handsome at all, he was no muscular stud, just spare and elegant and self-controlled and the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen. Harry gave a little shudder and his cock twitched. Then Snape tapped the chest with his wand and opened it.

Harry stared in confusion. Handcuffs? Strange little metal devices that looked rather like jewellery and a bit like something an electrician would use. There was a leather collar with ornate silver studs, a coiled leather whip, some odd-shaped rubber things, chains and straps and items of clothing. He reached out but Draco caught his hand.

“No, let me.” Smirking, the heir to the House of Malfoy reached into the box and drew out a scrap of black cloth. “Hm. I think you’d look good in silk and leather.”

Snape made a sound of agreement, picking up the two little clips 

“And metal, Draco.”

“What are they? They look like ear-rings.”

“These, Harry, are nipple clamps.” Snape fiddled with them for a moment before reaching across to Harry’s chest. “I have loosened them so that they only bite a little, for your first time.” He fingered Harry’s nipple, very lightly, and Harry arched into his touch without conscious thought. Then Snape’s other hand darted across and Harry yelped as the clamp attached to his tit with a small, sharp pain. Draco was on him in an instant, wand raised, spelling the handcuffs onto his wrists and fastening his arms wide, to two corners of the bed.

“We won’t hurt you, Harry,” Snape whispered. The desire, the keen needy growl in his rich voice made Harry’s toes curl. “If it gets too much, you must tell us. Use what we call a safe word, which will automatically remove all the bindings and clothing and end the game. Give me a word that you are unlikely to say and that is unique and easily identified.”

Harry stared into dark eyes. He was more aroused than he had ever been before in his life.

“Asphodel,” he whispered. Snape raised a delicate black eyebrow.

“Very well, ‘asphodel’ it is.” He whispered a charm and flicked his wand at the chest. “Now, Draco, I think that our pet needs his new clothing.”

Draco drew a pair of sheer briefs up Harry’s legs, settling them carefully, and when Harry peered down, he saw that his cock and balls were framed in black lace, cradled in tight silk that already showed a spot of dampness. Snape attached the second nipple clamp. The two sets of little teeth seemed to draw a line of fire that sped from his chest straight down to his balls. Next Draco placed leather bands around his wrists and pulled a pair of high black boots onto his feet and calves. Last of all, the collar, which Snape fixed gently around his neck.

The two Slytherins stood back and stared. Harry wriggled, feeling confined, and mildly embarrassed, and randy as hell.

“Stunning,” Draco Malfoy breathed. “Don’t you think, Severus? He’s stunning.”

“Indeed. Positively edible.”

“What shall we…?”

From the bowl of strawberries, Snape picked up a large, ripe fruit and held it to Harry’s lips. Harry reached up and bit, but Snape pulled it back so that he was only able to nip off the very tip. Then he drew the succulent fruit down, over Harry’s chin, down his throat, over the collar and down his chest, squeezing it so that drops of juice and scraps of the sweet sticky fruit adhered to his skin. Then he crushed the remains into Harry’s navel. Then he proceeded to suck it all off again, working up from his belly button to his mouth, which he kissed thoroughly as Draco dribbled strawberry juices and pulp across Harry’s chest and belly, and licked him clean.

Harry gasped and wriggled, at the feeling of the warm, wet little swipes of Draco’s tongue and the taste and the texture of Snape’s mouth.

“Please…” he whimpered, arching almost off the bed, unable to touch his hot, aching cock. Draco worked his way down, dripping sweet fruit onto the tight silken briefs. Then he sucked at the fabric and Harry squawked. “Coming…” he gasped and Draco immediately withdrew 

“Not until we say so,” he whispered, leaning his hands on Harry’s chest and his chin on his hands, his grey eyes alight with mirth. “Not until you’ve begged and pleaded.”

“First, you are going demonstrate the lesson, young Mister Malfoy.”

It was Draco’s turn to yelp as Snape caught him around the middle. “Harry, watch and learn.” Snape sat down on the bed, pulling Draco across his knee face down. The younger wizard struggled and fought, although not quite as hard as Harry expected. Snape raised his hand and smacked the delectable arse, leaving a faint pink imprint and making Draco buck.

“Bastard!”

Snape spanked him a few times, until the pale arse glowed a delicate pink. Draco wriggled. Snape turned, threw him on his front onto the bed and then he parted the cheeks and leaned down, blowing across Draco’s arsehole. Then to Harry amazement, Snape licked him, right there, down from his coccyx to the pink wrinkled bud, licking and slurping as if he was actually enjoying the taste. Draco moaned and panted. Then Snape Accioed the pot of lubricant, dipped in one finger and inserted it, slowly, screwing it around as he did so, working it fully inside Draco’s body. He repeated the exercise with two fingers, then three, and then he summoned one of the pieces of shaped rubber and he inserted it, firmly but carefully, into Draco’s arse.

“This,” Snape explained, “Is a butt plug.”

“Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable?”

“Feels different,” Draco panted, “Feels full.” Snape fiddled with it and Draco arched and groaned.

“His prostate,” Snape said smugly, “Which feels like – well, shall I show you?”

“Me!” Draco exclaimed, except that it came out slightly squeaky. Snape shrugged and sat back with a slightly proprietorial air.

“Very well, you may, but _I_ shall be the first to fuck him.”

Harry stared into black fathomless eyes.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed. “You. Yes.”

Draco jumped up, wincing and rubbing at his backside.

“You didn’t have to spank quite so hard,” he grumbled but Snape merely smirked in that infuriating Snapeish fashion and folded his arms. Draco picked up his wand and unlocked the handcuffs, levitating Harry and turning him over, then reattached the cuffs. He picked out a couple of strawberries, popped one into Harry’s mouth and crushed the next onto the base of his spine and between his cheeks and then he licked it off again. His agile, warm tongue probed Harry’s arse, a small and excruciatingly arousing tickle at first, then pressing inside more firmly. Harry found himself trying to press up towards Draco’s mouth and at the same time, rub his cock against the smooth sheet of the bed. The nipple clamps bit lightly at his nipples, a sensation that rocked back and forth between pleasure and pain. He moaned in frustration. Then something larger than Draco’s tongue pushed gently into him, something slick and hard. It wriggled around inside him and he grunted, not sure if he liked the sensation at all. Then Draco touched something that set off fireworks in his brain and made his cock thrum.

“Oh, God!” he gasped, wanting it again, pushing his arse towards Draco’s hand. The fingertip obligingly rubbed gently against the same spot again and Harry shuddered and everything in him, every feeling and sensation and thought, centred on the powerful orgasm that was building in his balls. A large hand slid beneath his body and folded itself around his cock and he came in Snape’s hand, pumping into the firm warmth with a howl of completion.

Then the hands were lifting him upwards and he realised that the cuffs had been spelled away. Snape held him steady on hands and knees as he inserted his own finger. This time, Harry welcomed the intrusion. He felt a second finger alongside the first, stretching the sphincter gently, accustoming him to the strange sensation, and a third finger joined them. This was slightly painful, a stretching sensation, but bearable if it meant more of that incredible feeling when something touched his prostate. Then there was a blunt, slick thing pressing against him, pushing into him, burning and stretching him and he grunted, tensing against the intrusion.

“Shh,” Snape breathed and a hand stroked his belly. “Push back against me. Relax around me and push back.”

Harry tried to obey and the burning lessened a little, so he cautiously bore down against the pressure of Snape’s cock and Snape pushed a little further in, panting harshly against the back of his neck. Deeper, harder, and Harry had never felt so dominated or filled before. He did not know if he hated this or loved it. Snape was claiming him, forcing into him with a series of little thrusts, and then Draco reached under him and removed the nipple clamps. The twin little aches vanished and then Draco’s tongue was soothing the sensitised nubs, enticing them, and Harry’s flaccid prick stirred. Then he found himself staring down at Draco’s alert cock and Draco’s clever mouth was around the tip of his cock again, champagne-cold, filled with bubbles, and Harry moaned. He must have relaxed even more because Snape sank fully inside him; Harry felt Snape's balls slap against his thigh. Snape began to move and the big hard cock stroked across that incredibly sensitive spot and he mewled, all dignity discarded, caring only about this moment of pure sensation, wishing that it would never end.

“Mine,” Snape murmured against his shoulder, and opened his mouth against the skin and nipped it, sucking and biting lightly. “Both of you, mine.”

“Yes,” Harry gasped, and Draco could not say anything except a kind of muffled snort, but Harry took that to be agreement.

He came before Snape did, and then braced himself as Snape built up to a jerky, convulsive climax. Then to Harry's surprise, Snape leaned down, took Draco into his mouth and sucked him off, manipulating the toy inside his arse as he did so. Draco did not take long. They collapsed into a heap on the bed; Harry nuzzling against Snape and Draco draping himself elegantly on the Potions master’s other side. Draco levitated the bowl, picked up a handful of strawberries and popped one into each of their mouths.

“That spanking thing,” Harry said around a mouthful of sweet fruit, “Does it feel good?”

“Not exactly good,” Draco admitted after a pause. “More sort of right. It feels _right_. And it makes what comes afterwards even better.”

“Can it get better?” Harry wondered and felt Snape vibrate with amusement.

“I take that as a compliment.”

“It was great,” Harry sighed. “Better than I’d imagined. Can we do it again some time soon?”

“I’m sure we can manage something,” Snape murmured, “Although I do see a stint in Azkaban in my immediate future.”

“No way,” Harry said.

“You’re going to stand between me and a group of irate Aurors, are you, Pot - Harry?”

“If I have to.” 

“They could come for me at any time.”

“You’ll both have to come and live with me then,” Harry said.

He felt Snape give the slightest twitch of surprise.

“One bout of sex and he’s anyone’s,” Draco said dryly.

“I’ve already lodged an appeal against the warrant for your arrest; Kingsley Shacklebolt is going to deliver it to the Minister as soon as he gets back to the Ministry tomorrow. And I’ve stated that I take full responsibility for you both until they pull their heads out of their arses and exonerate you. So there. Nothing to do with sex.”“Gryffindor,” Draco said, but the emotion behind the word was anything but contempt. Harry sighed drowsily and nestled closer to Snape. Next bath night could not come soon enough.


End file.
